I don't know why write about him? When he appeared on the screen with pale golden and almost silver curly hair and squinted eyes full of scorn. Because we are so different. I think, life should have a purpose, everything should be gradual, and should not be like him so young, wasting, squandering. . .
When we were very, very young, there was a song about youth. Its melody was circulating in the streets and alleys. There was a very vivid lyric in it that said: "I was hit in the waist by youth..." I remember when I asked me how I liked it. My friend, why do you say that you were hit by youth on the waist? Instead of hitting her head, chest or something :) She laughed and didn't answer. Now I finally know the answer, youth can only move you when it hits you in such an unruly way. When you mock the world with a look of contempt, when you only hate the sky low and aim high; when you say no to everything and don't want to join the world; when you and life are a sharp weapon When stubbornly resisted and was defeated. You are indeed such a posture, like youth - a free and uninhibited posture. Just like the song sings: "I was hit by youth on the waist / I smiled in the world / I took a picture of the past and the present / Oh... The road in the world is long... I was hit by youth on the waist / The spring breeze followed with a smile Shake it hard/ Shake it shake it... I will burn with enthusiasm You know / I was hit by the youth in the waist / I twisted the flying flowers with the white clouds / Fluttering, fluttering / My love for you is as high as a mountain. . . .I will embrace youthful sincerity to old age."
I heard that the Paris subway is like an underground heart, and its blood vessels, such as networks, such as tentacles, extend to every corner of the city. Crowds of people poured in like water from all directions, and then receded, no one would make a short stop, and no one had really paid attention to the dark world in the endless tunnel. There are so many marginalized people outside the mainstream, singers, drummers, homeless, thieves and flower sellers, who live underground, homeless and without sunlight. A life without sunshine is not necessarily darker and sadder than a normal life. The silver-haired boy jumped gently into this world, causing ripples in their previously peaceful life. . .
Fred is a boy who plays life, from the bottom of society. He likes to blow up safes because, as he puts it, "I hate safes, I blow up when I see them." A cat-and-mouse game, like any snitch. It's just that he has too much love in his heart, he fell in love with the rich businessman's beautiful wife, he did nothing to blow up the rich businessman's safe, just to be able to see her again; he loved music, and he robbed the money carrier for this cash for a concert of his dreams. He hid in the subway, against all kinds of things on the ground, he harbored a vague love and inexplicable fear of this world; he ran all the way, but did not know where the end was.
In her early years, Adjani wrapped her stunning beauty in fancy clothes as Helen, the wife of a wealthy businessman. She did not love the young man because she was afraid of the unknown life; she loved the young man because she was as rebellious as him, The same dream and fear of the future. Helen was looking for Fred in the subway. He was going to use a gun to force him to hand over the information in the safe, but after finding it, he sat with him and watched the fireworks all night. Not real fireworks, but fireworks made by people in the underworld using electric welding, and Fred's friends on roller skates, and the drummer. That was the only good time they had together. When Helen and the boy on roller skates danced in the underground square to the music on the tape recorder, Fred, who was standing not far away, looked at the beautiful woman he deeply loved with tears in his eyes. The drummer came to him and asked, "Who is that woman?" Fred said, "Cinderella." The drummer gestured, "You have a pistol in your Cinderella handbag!" Fred smiled, "That's her magic wand. Ah..." A naughty silver-haired boy quietly looked at his lover, so affectionately. No need to say anything to know why he insisted on hiding those important materials. . . The purpose of the blackmail is so simple that I feel like my tears are about to fall.
And the realization of the dream is so absurd. Fred's hard-working band of homeless, when the black lead singer started to sing while crying, the people around were quiet, and there was no sound. In the early years of Luc Besson's films, the plots were always closely linked with the music and complemented each other. A trickle of water surged out of my heart, traversing this tunnel-like dark underground world, bringing warmth like sunshine. Yes, how humble and simple are their demands for life on the fringes of people living here! Just a little bit of sunshine. . . As the hwarang once said to the silver-haired boy, "There is no sunshine here, not at all. Wouldn't it be nice to wake up in the morning and see the sunshine?!" Everything slowed down in the music, and only Fred was left in a trance. In the phantom, he is his Helen and himself, she is the farthest and deepest blue star in his dream, and he is sitting beside the star. Happiness doesn't seem so far away. . .
This is a romantic and sad story, like a small flower bud about to bloom in such absurd soil. . . Just like the desire of the people living in the underground for sunshine, Fred's uninhibited and confused coat is cut open. He is just a child with a little humble desire, and he throws the chips of youth lightly, in the roulette of fate. After a flash, it turned to ashes like fireworks: (
The concert in the subway will push everything to a climax. She came against the crowd of people, and the eyes of the two searched for each other in the crowd. When he When he finally saw her, his eyes filled with a smile like spring flowers, blooming slowly... Time, time, how beautiful it would be if time could be frozen in this moment! It seems that happiness always brushes your shoulders Passed, but death followed. From the ecstasy of two people to the tearful parting, it was only a moment, every close-up was so loving and affectionate. We saw Fred's euphoria, shot, smile condensed, and then Slowly falling... On the stage, he did not hesitate to rob the concert he finally organized, and he was in full swing. He is the dream catcher who is running for happiness. When happiness is close at hand, the dream is shattered, and the world in the camera Gradually overturned...just like the fateful tragedy of Leon in Luc Besson's "The Killer Is Not Too Cold" ten years later... When he was lying in Helen's arms covered in blood, he asked softly, " Helen, do you love me a little bit? The grief-stricken she answered with a kiss for the first and last time in tears. At the last moment, he still said goodbye to her so calmly, "I will give You called..." It's heartbreaking.
Luc Besson's brilliant work in 1985. Now, after 20 years, looking back at that period of scorching youth like moths to flames, I feel that my years are getting old all of a sudden. go, get old...
View more about Subway reviews
